


Jojo Samuels: Life Without Death - A Collection of Pure Angst

by real_turtle



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition, OC - Fandom, original character - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Character Death, Crying, Death, Depression, Heavy Angst, M/M, Memory Loss, Mourning, Self Harm Scars, Suicide Idealisation, Tags to be added, dealing with suicidal thoughts, description of scars, oof this gave me the big sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-12 22:33:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20125660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/real_turtle/pseuds/real_turtle
Summary: Jojo Samuels is a man usually seen with a wide smile and bubbly go-getter attitude. But who is he underneath all that? A mess.A multi-chapter collection of angsty one-shot fics (both old and new) about my oc Jojo Samuels and his life as a severely traumatised and mentally ill half-dead demon. (his boyfriend Adair Lavellan, who is sure to make an appearance in a lot of these, belongs to hoehoehoelt)Every chapter will most likely contain potentially triggering topics and scenery, reader discretion is adviced. (every chapter will have warnings at the start)





	1. Is This Life? - Depressive Episode

**Author's Note:**

> if you or a loved one is dealing with depression and/or suicidal thoughts please don’t hesitate to reach out for help. There are people who care
> 
> // trigger warnings for the chapter: severe depression, suicide idealisation, description of (old) self-harm scars, suicidal thoughts

Adair found him where he usually was; their room, but instead of running to greet him Jojo was standing slouched at the balcony. Adair approached him carefully as to not startle him.

The sun had already set, the moon’s soft light illuminating the scene. Jojo stared at the horizon with empty and dry eyes, lips in a thin line and cheeks stained with now gone tears. His whole demeanour was a mess, with hair sticking out in all directions and tank top askew, his favourite and only hoodie thrown forgotten onto the floor. The gentle tap of stopping rain was calming to Adair before. Now it caused a pang of pain in his chest.

Jojo’s brows furrowed as he tilted his head to the side, still staring at nothing in particular, eyes hard and dark bags creating a strong contrast with his sickly pale skin. The moonlight made him glow and reflected off of his greyish blue eyes. He sighed, a weak, wavering breath leaving his lungs.

“Do y'know….” his voice was hoarse and creaked like an old wooden floor, it was like his signature, that voice of his; warm and friendly. Adair could recognise it from anywhere.

He could feel the dread, see it in the way the man— the man who looked so young but was undoubtedly years his senior— searched for lost words in his head. Could see how carefully he planned out his sentences, mapped out the path of the entire conversation as if one wrong move would set off a bomb, something he usually dismissed as a casual mishap and opportunity for something exciting. Now? He looked scared and fragile, seemingly shaking in place; petrified by something Adair cannot see.

“Have… have y'ever wondered… what it’s like to die?” Jojo’s eyes met Adair’s own bright golden ones. Bright, alive, and colourful. Everything about Adair was so different from Jojo. Anyone could see it from a mile away. From Adair’s sweets smile and frosted locks to his smooth, flawless skin and sparkling eyes— he was alive, truly alive, living with a heart beating rapidly in his chest. A heart to match those eyes.

Those wonderful, beautiful eyes that seemed to know no limits when it came to staring longingly at the wreck of a man Jojo was. Those eyes filled with love for only him, shining with such intensity in rhythm with his emotions that his face rarely showed.

Adair didn’t get a chance to answer before Jojo was tearing his gaze away back to the horizon, fresh tears starting to pool up. he couldn't stand those eyes baring down on him when he was like this; undeserving of his attention and affection; unworthy of his sympathy and time.

“I have.”

Adair knew Jojo had his own inner demons he fought with every day but something about seeing it— seeing the aftermath, more or so— it hurt. He looked defeated; broken.

“Y'know… there are only so many times y’ can come close t’ death until y’almost start cravin’ it,” Jojo chuckled and shook his head, looking down at his hands, at his arms; pink scars both long and short littered his flesh like stripes on a tiger; countless wounds both faded and clear as day almost decorated his skin. Adair had only recently seen Jojo without the bandages. One would think you wouldn’t forget something like that but with Jojo…

With him, it almost seemed like he’s come to think of the scars as a part of his body. As if that’s how his arms are _supposed_ to look— how they have always looked.

According to Jojo he doesn’t remember a time his body hasn’t looked the way it does.

Jojo set his head in his hands, leaning onto the balcony. He brought one hand onto the cold stone, the other one covering his mouth as he struggled to resist the urge to cry, tears pricking at his eyes— it burned. It hurt so bad and Jojo couldn’t help but close them, brows furrowing as his shoulders shook. Adair took ahold of his free hand gently and pulled him into a hug. Jojo cried and sobbed against his neck, every hiccup and sharp intake of air hit like a ton of bricks. Adair ran his hand through Jojo’s dark hair— he sometimes wondered if it always was such a dark black, he liked to joke around with Jojo saying he must have played in a pile of ash as a child. In any other situation the image would have made him laugh.

Not now.

It all came crashing down on Jojo like it did every now and then. All the friends he lost; all the faces he doesn’t remember; his family...

He can’t remember his family’s faces, let alone their names. There isn’t much he remembers anymore… but…

“I still remember how it felt,” he whispered after his sobbing died down, voice cracking and barely audible. He sniffled and held onto Adair for his dear life as if letting go meant losing himself in endless darkness without the only light in his miserable existence. “I remember how it felt t' die. What it was like t’ jus’… end it.”

“I kinda liked it.”


	2. Warm Summer Day - Missing You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adair takes a day to reflect on things important to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Death can be hard to deal with for some people. Mourning is a process that is different for everyone, and it's okay to mourn in your own way.
> 
> // trigger warnings for the chapter: character death, losing a loved one

It was a hot summer day much like this one.

Our beloved Inquisitor Adair Lavellan was walking around Skyhold to cool off. It was peaceful and noticeably quiet— maybe a bit too quiet.

He stopped by the training grounds but did not find what he was looking for. Then the tavern, and the kitchen, and the library. But someone was missing. It was past noon already, he had waited for some kind of explosion by midday and a man with a dorky smile plastered on his face limping to the infirmary like always. But today he hadn't heard from said man the whole day and he grew worried. He asked around and checked the roof and balconies,he even checked the dungeons but the half-dead demon was nowhere to be found.

Adair sighed as he eventually retired to his bedchambers, completely worn from his duties as the Inquisitor. Taking off his clothes he tossed himself onto the bed, rather ungracefully, and let himself get lost in his own breathing and thoughts. 

He thought about the fate of this world. 

He thought about the past. 

He thought about his friends. 

But all of them eventually led to a single person of interest, the one he had been trying to find the whole day. 

Jojo was someone very special to him— an odd personality with so much energy and spark, someone so strange and alluring; he was cute, smart, funny and kind and never a bore to be around. He had his silly quirks and figures of speech and ways of understanding and interacting with the world around him. 

He never questioned, never interfered with, the nature of things— only studied and learned, gathered information, and guided others to do the same. Accept things such as they were, and are right now, but you can use that knowledge and experience to improve it, to enhance it. Jojo was naturally curious about everything; he liked to explore, liked to learn, liked to… liked to  _ do  _ things— all kinds of different things!— he pushed himself out of what he was used to in order to _expand_ what he was used to. 

By this point, you could say he had seen it all; life, death, something in between; Monsters, creatures, magic, dragons, travel through time and space itself, ripping openings through worlds and realms and  _ people _ . He knew so many people— 

people who were  _ different. _

** _New. _ **

People who lived, people who died. 

Unlike Voidkeeper who was a silent observer; never touching, never guiding, never interacting. Jojo was so out there with everything and everyone, such a social butterfly with any creature and being— living or otherwise. He knew the price of life, how every little moment should be appreciated for what it is and what it isn't and what it could be. 

He had once been the opposite.

Threw everything away day after day until he had nothing left. 

Having nothing really shows you what you have and what you could have.

Losing everything— Including your life— losing a part of yourself.

It really puts things into perspective. 

Adair had never fully grasped the full picture of everything going on in Jojo's life but he was happy to understand anything at this point— with the whole world falling apart and everything. 

Adair surely took every little thing Jojo said and taught him and kept it in a special place in his mind and heart. Jojo was something truly special. Not just for experiencing so much and knowing so much but for sharing special little moments with Adair every once in a while; they'd lie in bed, either talking or in silence— just being there with each other. 

It was something truly wholesome, wasn't it? 

If only he was there to do it again.

But how many times can one man escape death before death catches up to him?


End file.
